


Made to Be Broken

by bloodstonepentagram



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Communication, Fluff, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 01:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodstonepentagram/pseuds/bloodstonepentagram
Summary: After a drunken hookup, Father Brown and Flambeau have a talk about celibacy, vows and relationships.





	Made to Be Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I write is just me taking my frustrations out on my Catholic school baggage with a sledgehammer. I don't know why I'm so drawn to stories about gay priests having secret relationships but there's something about it that I find extremely healing. In conclusion, hot damn, I love this ship.

The first thing Flambeau was aware of was the dryness in his mouth. Water. He needed water. He started to lift his heavy eyelids, only to drop them again the second the light hit his eyes. It was too bright.

He squeezed his eyes shut and sank back onto the pillow, feeling awareness gradually come back to the rest of his body. He shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night. Neither of them should have, he remembered, feeling Father Brown stirring on the other side of the bed.

Suddenly, bright lights in his eyes felt like a small price to pay to avoid whatever conversation was about to happen. He was one foot on the ground and already looking for his trousers when Father Brown spoke up.

“Leaving so soon?” he said, making Flambeau jump.

“Some of us have better things to do than lie in bed all day,” Flambeau said. Not his best retort, but circumstances were trying at present.

Father Brown smirked, not an expression that Flambeau had ever expected to see on his face. “Better than what we did last night?”

Some blurry memories started surfacing, hot and physical, and Flambeau found himself rethinking the trousers.

He sat back on the bed, his flight instinct disarmed momentarily.

“What kind of a priest are you?” he said, keeping his tone carefully light. “Seducing any handsome rogue who crosses your path?”

A smile played across the priest’s face, and he reached for Flambeau’s hand. Flambeau hesitantly let him take it.

“Not just any handsome rogue,” said Father Brown, with such sweet and guileless sincerity that Flambeau felt himself blushing.

“But your vows,” Flambeau said. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

Father Brown squeezed Flambeau’s hand. “Does it bother you?”

“I just want to understand. It seems inconsistent. Hypocritical, even. It isn’t like you.”

Father Brown mulled this over for a bit. His fingers were still intertwined with Flambeau’s, and Flambeau wondered if he should pull them away. Was it strange to hold hands during the conversation that they were having? Would pulling back now only draw attention to the fact that they’d been holding hands in the first place? Would Father Brown interpret it as a rejection?

What if Flambeau had to scratch his nose?

“Maybe I am hypocritical,” Father Brown said, cutting into Flambeau’s internal monologue. “I am certainly breaking my vows. But it doesn’t bother me.” He shrugged. “Maybe it should. But it doesn’t.”

“Your church teaches that God punishes fornication and sodomy,” said Flambeau. “Do you disagree?”

Father Brown turned his body slightly so that he could look Flambeau in the eyes Flambeau tried to keep the emotion out of his face, but he knew deep down that the Father could see right through him, as always.

“I have seen evil,” Father Brown said. “I’ve seen treachery and deceit and cold-blooded murder. I’ve seen the harm it does to innocent people.” He squeezed Flambeau’s hand, and Flambeau was glad he’d left it where it was. “Does this feel evil to you?”

“No,” Flambeau said softly, sappy sentimentality threatening to overcome him. He hadn’t quite got to the root of what was bothering him, though, so he pressed on. “But then, why become a priest? Why remain a priest? Why claim to uphold vows that you don’t view as binding?”

“Well, I could hardly tell everyone that I’m leaving the church to pursue a life of sodomy,” Father Brown said dryly. “I’d be lucky if they didn’t have me arrested.”

They could try, thought Flambeau. He had burned a lot of bridges since he had first begun throwing in his lot with the priest, but he still had his contacts to call on. He would have Father Brown out of jail and on the first boat to South America within the day. He said none of this out loud, though.

“I thought about this a great deal when I was young,” Father Brown said. “I always knew I was a homosexual. I couldn’t force myself to marry a woman and settle down. How could I do that to myself, let alone to her? The priesthood was an easy out. I was bright and religious and no one was surprised when I announced that I was going off to seminary. And it turned out that, for the most part, priesthood has suited me quite well.”

Flambeau snorted. “If you look up priest in the dictionary you’ll see a picture of yourself.”

Father Brown chuckled. The smile soon faded, though, and gravely, he said, “If it were possible for me to marry the love of my life, I would leave the priesthood on the spot and serve the Lord through the sacrament of marriage. But that will never be possible. I’ve been resigned to that fact for a long, long time. Maybe it’s selfish of me, maintaining a lie to keep myself in a position of comfort and safety. Maybe it would be better to throw it all away and risk prison or worse so that I can be true to myself. But I’m only a man. I have my fears and weaknesses just like anybody else. At the very least, I can help people this way.”

Flambeau let out a bark of laughter. “Even when you break your vow of chastity, you make yourself into a martyr. Catholics.” He raised Father Brown’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Well, I don’t give a damn what your church thinks. You do more good in one day than the entire Vatican put together, and that wouldn't change even if you slept with the entire Swiss Guard.”

“Then you don’t object?” Father Brown asked.

“To you sleeping with the Swiss Guard? I admit, I'd be a little jealous." He gave himself a second to chuckle at his own joke. "No, I don't object to this, to us. I mean, my god, did I sound like I objected last night?"

Father Brown gave a little smile but remained silent, and Flambeau knew that he was waiting patiently for an explanation of the cross-examination.

Flambeau's eyes shifted, and he found himself staring fixedly at the wall behind Father Brown's right shoulder. “I didn’t want you to resent me,” he said. “Or to blame me. I care about you…a great deal. I don’t know that I could handle it if you turned against me.”

“Hercule,” Father Brown said softly, and Flambeau’s eyes met the Father’s in surprise at the sound of his Christian name. “You must know that I care deeply for you, as well. My actions are my own, and I regret none of them.”

Flambeau couldn't stand it any longer. He drew Father Brown close and kissed him, a hard, passionate kiss.

Seconds later they drew apart in mild disgust.

“I’m going to get a glass of water,” Flambeau said, wincing at the taste in his mouth. 

“I’ll go and brush my teeth," said Father Brown, making a similar face.

“I will when you’re done," Flambeau said, going at last to retrieve his trousers from the floor where they'd ended up. "I'll meet you back here, I'm not finished with you."

"I'll be waiting."


End file.
